


Yarn, Spinning, Spun

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Buddies, Fantasizing, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, just boys being guys, precanon, treehouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 22:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: "I've got a story like that," he says suddenly, bolder than he thought he could be."Oh?""You wanna hear it?""You mean - like we used to?""Well, what's the point in the telling, otherwise?"
Relationships: Tommy Gillis & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Tommy Gillis/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Yarn, Spinning, Spun

Tommy climbs into the treehouse just before midnight, feeling around in the dark. There's blankets on the floor, and - ah, there it is - a flask tucked into the corner, along with a flashlight. Tommy grabs the flask, takes a swig while he waits. 

Ten minutes later, he hears some scuffling and muffled swearing, and then the rope ladder is swinging lightly as Hawkeye makes his way up. Tommy turns on the flashlight and sets it in the corner where it'll throw light without blinding them. Hawkeye's face emerges in the doorway, followed by his arms and shoulders. 

"What the hell are we doing here, Hawk?" he asks, grinning as he pulls his best friend up into the treehouse. "It's been a long time and a lot of girls since we had to practice kissing."

"Who said anything about practice?" Hawkeye asks, grabbing the flask for himself. "Hey, you got a head start. Guess that means I need to catch up." He tips the flask back, gulping down one, two, three shots of his dad's vodka. Tommy watches with fascination. It's the alcohol tolerance, he tells himself, and definitely not the way Hawk's throat ripples when he swallows.

Tommy turns around and leans against Hawkeye's back, pretending he needs more room to stretch his legs, or something equally implausible. 

"Pass me that," he says gruffly, reaching back for the flask. Hawkeye hands it to him wordlessly, sighs, leans his head back against Tommy's.

"Remember when we used to come up here?" he says, a little dreamily. 

Remember. How could Tommy forget? Once they outgrew the boyish capers and pranks, they'd spent every waking minute up here. Just like this, in fact.

"Yeah," he says. And then he chuckles. "You remember the time you told me some story about Susannah Barker wearing a sweater with a zipper up the back?"

Hawkeye's laugh is more of a giggle. "I don't. I really said that?"

"Mhmm." Tommy remembers it most vividly, because it was accompanied by the sound of Hawkeye unbuttoning his pants. "I've got a story like that," he says suddenly, bolder than he thought he could be.

"Oh?" 

"You wanna hear it?"

"You mean - like we used to?"

"Well, what's the point in the telling, otherwise?"

It's a good thing they're sitting back to back because Tommy is utterly failing to conceal the fact that he's practically drooling at the sound of Hawkeye unbuttoning his shorts. He follows suit, reaching into his pants and giving his already-aching cock a squeeze.

"Who've you got in mind?" Hawkeye asks, low and thick. Tommy can tell he's already stroking himself, that his eyes are probably half-closed. He leans against Hawk's back, feels Hawk push back against him, keeping him upright, feet braced on the treehouse wall.

"Um....Brenda Townsend," Tommy blurts out, naming the first girl he can think of. _Definitely Brenda. Definitely not the memory of you under my covers at a sleepover where you woke up scared and I told you to get in with me. Definitely not how both of us were hard and didn't say a word. Definitely not how I lay awake the entire night, hoping you wouldn't say anything, or blow it, or be anywhere but my bed ever again._

"Mmm," says Hawkeye appreciatively. "I can just imagine how she'd look out of that sweater..." his voice trails off, and for a moment, there's only their breath and their hands. _Definitely Brenda. Definitely not the thought of you right now, with your hand on that glorious cock of yours, and what it would feel like if you touched me like this. Definitely not the thought of how you whimper just a little when you kiss. Definitely not how I would give anything to turn around right now._

*

Tommy feels the inevitability approaching, the no-turn-back wave coursing through him, his back arching against Hawkeye's, heart pounding. He's always been the quiet one of the two. It's partially his nature, but mostly he doesn't want to miss a sound. 

_"Fuck,"_ Hawkeye breathes. Tommy feels the grunt caught in his throat, the way his whole body shakes when he's close, and suddenly, it's not at all enough. It's courage, or the alcohol, or the promise that they're going to college and may not see each other again for years, but he scrambles to his knees and turns around with no thought other than he has to touch more, has to see more. 

His cock bobs out of his shorts, jutting into Hawkeye's back as Tommy leans him against his chest, watching his hand fly, biting his lip and whimpering, and Hawkeye explodes before there's time to register any of it, spurting into the air and landing on his chest, his shirt, Tommy's nose, back arched, mouth open, panting and Tommy can't hear, but can only see the way his lips form his name as he falls.

They freeze. Just like they did for countless aching nights, they don't move. Hawk is still twitching with the aftershocks, and Tommy wants to hold him, to run his hands over that familiar back and tell Hawkeye he's the most beautiful thing in the world. 

But speaking, moving, might break everything.

Hawkeye wipes the back of his hand on his shirt. Reaches for the discarded flask and tips the last few drops into his mouth. The treehouse is full of held breath and things unspoken. As he rolls over to put the flask back down, he drops his head right into the crease of Tommy's hips, and suddenly, Tommy's cock is engulfed in a tight, sucking warmth and he can't help but finally, finally, moan Hawkeye's name into the night.

*

Of course, it comes out only halfway, a long, drawn out "Haaaaw...." that turns into a gasp as  
of course, he grabs Hawkeye's hair without thinking  
of course, Hawkeye moans, deep and urgent and  
of course Tommy answers him, _oh fuck, yes_  
of course Tommy can't stop looking, can't stop watching the small movements of Hawk's head  
of course Hawkeye is already hard again, fisting his cock with one hand, the other braced on Tommy's thigh  
of course Tommy's mouth is dry and  
of course it doesn't take more than a minute  
of course, he pulls at Hawk's hair, trying to tell him - _I'm - I'm gonna - Hawk, stop, I - ___  
of course Hawk pulls off as Tommy hits the edge and  
of _course_ the sight of his come marking Hawkeye's face  
Hawkeye's reverent, eyes-closed, swollen-lipped, flushed face  
streaked in white  
that small, sated smile  
streaked in Tommy  
unforgettable  
erotic, thrilling  
(why does he want to lick it? _why does he want to lick it??_)

_ _*_ _

_ _They do have to move sometime._ _

_ _Tommy breaks the spell by grabbing one of the rumpled blankets from the corner and handing it to Hawkeye, who mops his face off and finally, finally opens his eyes. It's not the striking color that makes Tommy's breath catch and his chest flutter, though he knows he's never seen a pair as beautiful. _ _

_ _Hawkeye's looking at him dead-on in a way neither of them have ever dared, after one of these meetings. And by the looks of it, Tommy would swear, the boy has it as bad for him as Tommy does for Hawkeye._ _

_ _Tommy feels the laugh bubbling up in his chest long before it reaches his throat. He grins at Hawkeye, his best friend, his partner in crime. "And you didn't even - " he starts laughing before he can get the sentence out. It takes Hawkeye a second to figure out it's a joyous laugh, and not a mocking one, but he can't help but smile along._ _

_ _"You didn't - you didn't even buy me dinner - " Tommy finally chokes out, and Hawk pounces on him, wrestling him to the floor, and pinning him, their pants and shorts still open, their cocks soft and spent and nestled against each other in a way that nonetheless has Tommy groaning again._ _

_ _"_You_ didn't even _kiss_ me first," Hawk pouts._ _

_ _"Well, I can fix _that_" Tommy replies, leaning up on his elbows as Hawkeye bends over. His hands are surprisingly gentle as he takes Tommy's cheeks in both hands, pulling him close, just as they did so many times over the years._ _

_ _"This isn't practice, is it," Tommy murmurs when Hawk leaves his lips and starts landing kisses on his check, his jaw, - oh gd, his neck, who knew necks were this sensitive and wonderful and - _ _

_ _"Nope," Hawk replies into his shoulder. "This is real."_ _


End file.
